Gabe (In the Company of Snipers, #8)(9)

When’s the best time to take a kill shot?

Gabe had looked at Alex long and hard the morning of his job interview. What the hell? Any USMC rifleman worth his salt knew that answer. Like NEVER.

Enough said.

Alex nodded just once, what Gabe now understood was his stamp of approval. And just like that, prior USMC Sergeant Gabriel Cartwright became property of The TEAM and proud of it. He was done with the killing that went along with active warfare. Working for Alex promised less of it. Gabe had shot one too many as it was.

“Meeting in ten. You ready?” Junior Agent Taylor Armstrong leaned back in his chair and brushed his hair out of his eyes. He rarely spoke. He didn’t have to. He’d proved his loyalty when it counted most—in battle. Their friendship ran quiet, but deep.

“Sure. Why not?” Gabe grabbed another gulp of coffee and stowed his emotion.

I’ve got nothing else to do.




It was time for a staff meeting as a supervisor instead of an employee. A first.

Mark gathered his thoughts and left Alex’s office, determined to get on with the business of living.

Junior Agent Taylor Armstrong, ex-USMC scout sniper—as if there was such a thing—sat at his desk with his head down, no doubt working on his debriefing reports from his latest op. He was the strong and silent type, one-half American Indian, the other half crazy in love with his new wife, Gracie.

His buddy, Maverick Carson, yet another ex-Marine, jumped to attention the moment he spotted Mark. He might’ve made the same mistake Mark did when he was the new kid in the office, and called Alex sir. Alex had a thing about being inappropriately addressed as an officer. But that day was gone.

Mark nodded at Maverick, but kept going. Mental note to self: He’s wound too tight. Let him know he’s in good company, that working with guys and gals who know the down side of war is good medicine, maybe the best for a vet come home from the sandbox.

Their buddy, Gabe, seemed lost in thought, one leg stretched in front of him and staring at nothing. He’d grown quieter with every passing day since the funeral. Being first on the scene with Alex had left its mark. He blamed himself. What returned war hero wouldn’t? Survivor’s guilt always sucked.

Bottom line, Gabe needed to get his head back in the game, and Mark intended to remedy that in short order. No one blamed him. Every last agent on The TEAM knew exactly what happened. They wanted the shooter, plain and simple. And dead.

Newly hired Lisa Channing stood smartly at attention in her cammie cargo pants and TEAM polo. Somehow, she made that man’s uniform look good, something Landon Truman obviously noticed. Odd. Of all the new hires, he seemed the most unaffected by the loss of his boss, probably because he kept flirting as if that were all he had to do. Next time I see him hanging around her desk, we’re going to have a talk. That bullshit stops.

No big surprise. David wasn’t at his workstation. No doubt he was in the first floor gym he’d persuaded Alex to build years ago. Same as Zack. He took his anger and grief to the fitness center and pounded it out on the weight bench. He’d spent a lot of time there lately.

The married couples surprised him. Usually discreet and professional about their relationship, today Rory Dennison stood at the window, his arm around his wife Ember’s waist. They faced the bright light of another sunny day in Alexandria, but her shoulders heaved. He tipped his head into hers. Mark let them have their moment.

Izza sat stiff in the middle of her husband’s desk with one boot on his armrest, a tissue at her nose. Connor’s hand rested on her thigh. Tight-lipped and teary-eyed, this was the first time Mark had seen Connor’s kickboxing wife cry. She sniffed and turned away.

Izza had a rule about crying—at least about being seen doing it.

Poor Junior Agent Steven Cross sat plugged in at Mother’s workstation, as if she owned him. The man had the patience of a saint. Mother bossed him as if he wasn’t the highly trained professional he was.

Mother. The quintessential Girl Friday. A genius computer geek. The go-to gal for everything technical. Mark’s favorite covert hacker. Even she looked a little red-eyed and teary.

She’d shown up her first day of work under her given name, Sasha Kennedy. Once she got comfortable, she began doing what she did best—minding everyone else’s business. Next thing anyone knew, Alex had nicknamed her Mother. Only he didn’t mean it in a nice way. Damned if she didn’t take it as a term of endearment, though.


Mark halted at her workstation and cleared his throat. “Hey, guys. Listen up.”

Harley came to stand at his left while the others gathered around, the life kicked out of them but still on the job and ready to work.

“Yes, Boss,” Rory replied like the good troop he was.

That word.

Mark faltered, the mantle of responsibility a weight he didn’t want, not this way.

David and Zack joined the group with the same resolute expressions on their faces as everyone else. Mark had to give it to Alex. As hard as the guy could be on his team, he’d still earned the dedication of every one of them.

“We have two missions. First and foremost, we’ll stay close to Kelsey. She needs to know she’s still part of this team. Two, we hunt down the bastards who killed Alex. Until we know different, we’re officially going after every last one of Charlie Oakes’s buddies.”

“The gang of ten?” Ember asked from where she stood with Rory.